


Dream a Little Dream~

by barbitone



Series: The Dragon Prince Fanfiction [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Viren (The Dragon Prince), Dream Sex, M/M, Mild humiliation kink, Mildly Dubious Consent, Morally Ambiguous Character, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Sex Magic, Sort Of, Voyeurism, or is it a dream???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 18:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17965451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: Viren doesn’t sleep well, he hasn’t slept well for years, decades. It’s worse now. It’s worse because every time he closes his eyes he sees that mirror, that library, that smirk. Those eyes.How may I serve you?There are so many ways, so many things he wants but doesn’t know how to ask for. He’s used to being a servant, a dog- used to being led around on a leash and sitting at his master’s feet, begging for scraps- of affection, of recognition, of trust. He’s used to begging for everything he has, used to fighting for it and guarding it jealously against all interlopers.





	Dream a Little Dream~

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhh HI I finished TDP s2 and here's some kinky mirror sex ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> It doesn't help that all of Aaravos' canon lines sound like dirty talk. This isn't my fault, basically is what I'm saying.

 

* * *

 

Viren doesn’t sleep well, he hasn’t slept well for years, decades.

It’s worse now.

It’s worse because every time he closes his eyes he sees that mirror, that library, that _smirk_. Those eyes.

_How may I serve you?_

There are so many ways, so many things he wants but doesn’t know how to ask for. He’s used to being a servant, a dog- used to being led around on a leash and sitting at his master’s feet, begging for scraps- of affection, of recognition, of trust. He’s used to begging for everything he has, used to fighting for it and guarding it jealously against all interlopers.

_How may I serve you?_

The question, the mere _suggestion_ of it, sends Viren reeling. He’s not a master, and here is this elf, offering him mastery. Promising him power and knowledge, _anything_ , and in return-

There has to be something in return. There’s always a price to pay, but he doesn’t know what it is.

 _“You look tired,”_ Aaravos says and Viren glowers at him, tries to ignore the sweet hidden promise in his tone. What is he offering, exactly? He never says and Viren is not the type to ask. He’s not used to being _offered_ things, doesn’t know what to do with it. Doesn’t know how to ask or accept, all he can do is demand and suggest and manipulate, that’s the only game he knows.

He doesn’t recognize the game Aaravos is playing, he’s not entirely sure it’s a game at all.

 _“When was the last time you slept?”_ Aaravos asks, tilting his head to the side. The grub wriggles over Viren’s ear as he speaks, curls into him. It’s heavy and hot over his skin, not as unpleasant as he forces himself to pretend it is. Every time Aaravos speaks Viren can practically feel his breath over his ear, the side of his jaw. He could get lost in just that- his voice, his golden gaze.

“What is it to you?” Viren asks coldly, drawing back from the mirror and turning away so Aaravos won’t see the longing in his eyes.

Aaravos chuckles like maybe he already knows, and the sound shivers through him.

His knee aches, he has a migraine building up behind his eyes. He still hasn’t found a way to get the council to listen to him, still hasn’t found the princes. He’s dangling over the edge of a precipice and he’s so _tired._

 _“Rest,”_ Aaravos murmurs. _“You will need your strength for what’s to come.”_

“And what is that, exactly?” Viren demands, whirling back around to face him.

But Aaravos smirks and stays silent, just as he always does when it matters most. Viren purses his lips in anger and frustration and pulls the grub off his ear, dropping it into its jar before turning to leave, slamming the door shut behind him.

He forces himself to wait until he’s in his rooms before he pauses to catch his breath, leaning hard against the door. He closes his eyes and sees Aaravos- his smirk, his silky hair, his horns catching the light of the fire in his study.

Viren inhales sharply and forces his eyes open, forces himself to move towards his bed. He’s playing with things he doesn’t understand and isn’t prepared for, he knows that much for sure- he isn’t a complete fool. But what other choice does he have? He has nothing else. Nothing but the mirror, and the prison, and Aaravos.

He dreams that he’s back in the dungeon, staring into the mirror.

He dreams of the ritual- the stone, the chalice. But this time there’s no knife, this time Aaravos smirks as he pours wine into the cup, dark as blood, and then slides two of his long glittering fingers into his mouth as he stares Viren down. When he pulls his fingers free they’re glistening and wet with spit, and he dips them into the chalice, swirling them around.

Viren can only stare as Aaravos pours the chalice out onto the ground and thick white mist begins to spill from the mirror, spill into the room. He gasps as he stares wide-eyed, trembling as he takes a fearful step back.

 _“No,”_ Aaravos croons, the word so impossibly sweet. _“Come closer.”_

He doesn’t know why he obeys, doesn’t know why he steps towards the mirror. He’s shaking with fear and exhaustion, with something else. Aaravos is watching him, smirking, and the mist is still pouring in until it fills the entire room. It smells oddly sweet and Viren’s head is swimming with it.

“What are you doing?” he whispers, but Aaravos just smiles.

 _“There’s something that you want very badly,”_ he says. _“You don’t have to worry so- I can give it all to you.”_

“Why?” Viren asks, woozy and trembling. The mist curls around his ankles, sliding up around his legs. It’s warm. It feels like- hands. Hands with four fingers curling up his body, stroking him.

 _“Shhh,”_ Aaravos says. _“Easy. What are you so afraid of?”_

Viren is afraid of a lot of things- death, mainly. Not his own. But this strikes fear in him like nothing else, like being trapped in a room with something close and feral, bristling with fangs, with teeth. The mist is rising and it feels solid as it strokes his legs, and then-

He gasps as the ghostly hands brush gently over his groin, his straining cock.

“What is this?” he demands.

 _“A dream,”_ Aaravos smirks. _“Do you not dream?”_

“I-” Viren starts and doesn't know how to finish. There are hands over his chest, pushing into his clothes. He’s still standing but somehow his knee doesn’t hurt, nothing hurts. He’s still so tired but mostly he’s _hot_ , his skin thrumming. Is this a dream? It feels more real than any dream he’s ever had, more clear, more visceral-

But nothing hurts. His knee doesn’t ache, and neither does his hip. The ever-present migraine always lurking at the back of his skull is gone and so is the faint nausea he always feels after casting. Maybe this is a dream after all.

 _“That’s right,”_ Aaravos croons. _“Just so. Kneel for me.”_

And that, at least, is something Viren is intimately familiar with. Kneeling, bowing, debasing himself for the pleasure of his betters. He sinks to his knees and the hands help him, steady him. The mist swirls around him, curling up his thighs, his groin. The ghostly hands push off his coat and he shivers as they reach into his shirt.

It’s cold in the dungeons but the hands are warm and solid against his skin.

_“Tell me, you’ve done this before, haven’t you? You’ve done this for your King?”_

“Yes,” Viren whispers, closing his eyes. The pressure on his cock is growing, his pants are open and there are fingers wrapping firmly around his length. He bites back a moan and ducks his head. Aaravos is watching him. He knows this without having to look up and check.

 _“This is different,”_ Aaravos says. _“This I do for you. Just for you. Because you want it, and I can give you anything you want. Anything you need.”_

Viren gasps as he feels firm pressure against his upper back, pushing him down so he’s on his hands and knees on the cold stone. There are hands gripping his inner thighs, spreading his legs, hands caressing his ass and fingers dipping teasingly below his waistband, under his shirt, slipping over his nipples.

He’s more aroused than he’s ever been in his life as he shudders under the elf’s golden gaze. He’s more ashamed than he’s ever been in his life as he fights not to rut into the ghostly hand stroking his cock, so lightly now it’s barely more than a tease.

_“Why are you so ashamed? It’s just a dream. Isn’t this what dreams are for? So you can taste your desires without fear?”_

It’s just a dream.

He can feel fingers stroking his entrance and a whimper falls from his lips that he can’t call back. He’d never let himself dare to want this, much less ever try it, and now-

Something pushes inside him and it’s warm and solid. He gasps and his whole body rocks forward like he’s trying to squirm away from the intrusion but he’s wreathed in mist, held too tightly to move.

Aaravos chuckles above him and it sounds as though it’s coming from everywhere all at once, it sounds like it’s ringing out from inside Viren’s skull. He shudders, his head hanging down and his fingers clutching at the stone.

Everything stops.

He’s caught and held, trapped. He bites at his lip and doesn’t know if he wants to be released or taken, if he wants this to stop or never stop. He shifts restlessly and Aaravos chuckles again.

_“Tell me what you need- and I will help you.”_

Viren licks his lips and tries to bring himself to speak. “I-”

_“Tell me.”_

“I need- more,” he whispers.

The mist _shifts_ and it’s not just hands around him, it feels like a man’s solid form pressed up against his back, it feels like _him._

Viren moans as hands grip his hips firmly, keeping him still as a warm cock works into him in slow shallow strokes, as a pair of thighs push his legs open wider.

 _“Yes,”_ Aaravos croons. _“That’s it. Isn’t that better? Isn’t it better to give in? Let yourself have this?”_

Viren can only pant with pleasure. There’s a hand stroking his cock, a hand on his throat, and then he’s being pulled back to his knees to rest in the mist-creature’s lap as it fucks him. It touches on something deep inside that makes heat rush through him and Viren cries out, arching his back and angling for more. It gives it to him, hitting that spot with every thrust, and Viren can’t hold back the wordless whimpers spilling out of him, the heat thrumming through him.

The hand on his throat tightens, pulling his head back, and when he opens his eyes it’s to see Aaravos watching him with a faint smile playing over his lips.

He’s never felt this exposed before, this out of control. Embarrassment rises through him like something sharp and cold, but it’s not enough to quell his arousal. If anything, it only stokes it.

He can’t look away from Aaravos’ golden eyes, and through it all that thing is fucking him, holding him, teasing him. His cock is hard and straining, drooling precome to the dungeon floor. He’s so close but there’s a tendril of mist curling tightly around the base of his cock, around his balls, holding back his release.

It’s maddening, infuriating, so impossibly good. Viren doesn’t know how long it lasts, how long he’s kept there on his knees enduring endless waves of pleasure while Aaravos watches him like he’d watch a bug pinned to a board, ready to be framed and mounted on the wall.

His whole body is shaking with how tightly wound he is, how badly he wants his release. Nothing else matters in that moment, everything is so far away. Everything but the heat raging through him, the _need_.

 _Tell me what you need- and I will help you,_ he’d said. And Viren realizes what the elf is waiting for, why he’s keeping him on edge like this.

“Please,” he manages in a hoarse whisper.

 _“Please what?”_ Aaravos asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Please let me come,” Viren says, his voice shaking with shame and desire. “Please-”

Aaravos smirks and slowly, so slowly, he kneels. _“Of course,”_ he murmurs. _“Anything you want. You need only to tell me.”_

Viren’s eyes widen as Aaravos reaches towards him, reaches _through_ the mirror. He shudders as the elf takes his chin. His fingers feel impossibly hot, even over Viren’s feverish skin. He leans forward and presses his lips to Viren’s own and the shock of it has Viren arching closer as he moans helplessly.

The tendril over his cock thickens and loosens before stroking him. The mist creature speeds up, wrapping its arms around his chest to hold him tight. Aaravos is still kissing him but it’s no longer a simple brush of lips, it’s bruising and hungry and Viren can’t _breathe._

It’s all so much, too much. He tries to break away from Aaravos’ hold but he can’t, he’s being held too tightly. Aaravos deepens the kiss, thrusting his tongue inside Viren’s mouth, tightening his fingers over his jaw. Viren struggles but it’s futile, and just as he feels panic rising through him Aaravos pulls back with a laugh.

Viren gulps in a deep breath and suddenly everything slams into him all at once and he cries out loudly as he spills, shuddering around the cock still thrusting inside him, the hand still stroking him. It keeps going through the aftershocks, and then past them, until Viren can only whimper as he struggles weakly to escape the overstimulation.

“Stop,” he whispers and the mist fades away to nothing, leaving him slumped on the ground. He looks up as he fights to catch his breath and sees Aaravos standing behind his mirror, watching him like he’d never left it, like nothing had happened at all.

 _“Rest now,”_ Aaravos says, and pulls the fire lighting his study into his hand before snuffing it out, leaving Viren in darkness.

Viren comes awake with a sharp gasp, momentarily disoriented. The front of his trousers is wet and he flushes with shame. He hasn’t _soiled_ himself like this in his sleep since he’d been a boy. He frowns- he’d undressed for bed, he was sure he had. And he’s-

He’s not in his bedroom. He’s sitting in his chair in the dungeon, and when he looks up he sees the mirror. Viren’s breath catches in his throat as a cold wave of dread washes over him- but the study is empty. Aaravos is nowhere to be seen.

Was it just a dream after all?

Yes, Viren decides as he forces himself to stand. Yes. Just a dream. He can’t quite bear the thought that it had been anything more.

Except- as he makes his way back to his rooms he’s surprised to notice that his knee doesn’t hurt. Nothing hurts. And he’s exhausted in a way he’s not used to feeling- satisfied and boneless. Ready to rest.

He pulls off his clothes and doesn’t bother with his nightshirt, it’s all he can do just to pull the blanket over himself.

_How may I serve you?_

There are so many ways, so many things Viren wants. One less now- or at least, for the time being. Until the desire builds again.

That night, he sleeps well.

  


_fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [barbitone](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/) and pillowfort also at [barbitone](https://www.pillowfort.io/barbitone)


End file.
